


Six Thousand Years

by KettleandString



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Historical, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Which I do, i mean it is canon compliant if we think Crowley and Aziraphale being in love is canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KettleandString/pseuds/KettleandString
Summary: We all enjoyed the cold open of Episode 3 of Good Omens, right? Well what if it had been longer? And what if Azirpahale and Crowley had met more than 10 times over the course of history? What if they had fallen slowly in love over dozens of encounters, in various exciting historical settings, despite the forces of the universe working against them? What then?Well, it would be this, a loving (re)telling of the story of Aziraphale and Crowley, six thousand years in the making.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. In the beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! I realise I am about a year late in posting this and the Good Omens boat has sailed somewhat but still, I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> Also, I have no proof reader so apologies for any typos

The book of Genesis states that God created the Heavens and Earth in 7 days. This is not strictly true. A day is measured as the time taken for the Earth to rotate once on its axis, and since the earth did not yet exist, neither did days. And God did not work alone. 

It is impossible for humans to truly know what angels look like. For a start, they exist in five dimensions, a concept three dimensional being find hard to grasp. Most people think angels look like humans but angels are not constrained to such a limited form. They could be vast or atomic, the owner of hundreds of limbs, or none. They needed no heart, no lungs, no messy insides at all. But humans did get one thing right: angels absolutely have wings. The angels were created by God herself to assist in the creation of the universe. They were intended to be creatures of pure good, whose only purpose was to serve God's ineffable plan without asking any questions about it. 

They were first set the task of creating light; every photon that ever was or ever will be is carefully weaved into existence by millions of angels, working in perfect harmony. One such angel, a slightly prissy one whose wings were usually folded neatly behind him, works hard, his vast and infinite mouth set. This is Aziraphale. He is a mid-level angel and even though he knows that he must work hard towards God's ineffable plan, he sometimes, very quietly, wishes God had given them something a bit more interesting to do. His direct superior, the angel Gabriel, works near him, carefully crafting each photon into existence, each a perfect particle to be sent out into the universe. Aziraphale looks down at his own handiwork and sighs, ever so quietly. Gabriel looks up but Aziraphale is hard at work and Gabriel decides he must have imagined it.

However, Aziraphale is not the only angel questioning God's plan. In another corner of the universe entirely, an angel named Lucifer is also growing bored of his task. And he does not sigh quite so quietly. 

The day it took for God to create light stretched on and on. The angels toiled away. The following day they were set to work creating an atmosphere for a barren little rock that had appeared amongst their sea of photons (God did do that bit of handiwork herself). As he was miracling atoms of oxygen into existence, Aziraphale felt as though there should be something more to existing than just creating particles. First photons, now atoms. Admittedly, atoms were a tad more exciting, involving as they did many complex and interlocking parts. But still, it was a bit dull, wasn't it? Elsewhere, Lucifer was fuming. 

The following day, God set them to work creating the Earth and the plants. Every grain of sand, every leaf and twig and thorn, every blade of grass and the vast expanses of soil beneath. The mountains, the deserts, the icy tundra: every atom carefully crafted and put in place by some dutiful angel. This was, Aziraphale decided, much more interesting than creating particles. Although, he thought as he stood on what would eventually become Guadeloupe, fine white grains of sand pouring from his hands, the question of why they were doing this still remained. He looked around at the long, pristine beach he had been working on. It was quite beautiful. He hoped, deep down, that this might be for them. That God would turn to them, after an eternity of work, and let them roam free in the universe they had collectively created. Aziraphale often had thoughts like this and fretted dreadfully about whether anyone had noticed him staring wistfully at the horizon. In the distance, Gabriel did in fact look up from a tuffet of grass he was willing into existence and frowned at Aziraphale. But the angel was hard at work expanding the beach. If Aziraphale had had an oesophagus, in that moment he would probably have swallowed nervously. 

Up in the northern most reaches of the planet, Lucifer and his angels were supposed to be layering sheet upon sheet of ice, meters thick. Instead, Lucifer was talking: 

"- and my question to you is, angels, who is this all for? Why are we doing all this work?" 

"For us?" piped up one of the angels, hopefully. 

Lucifer turned his seventeen cold, blue eyes on the angel and spoke in a soft howl that carried on the artic winds. 

"No. This is not for us. We exist to serve God, to serve God's plan. We will work and work, creating and creating and she will give our creation away." He paused; the angels gathered closer. 

"But follow me and I will give you the Earth and the Heavens to play in forever." 

A huge crest of ice rose behind him as he spoke, and the angels shivered. Not from cold, angels cannot feel cold, but from fear and anticipation. 

On the fourth day, God tasked the angels with creating the heavens. Infinite galaxies containing infinite stars and infinite plants. This was the last straw for Lucifer. On the fourth day, Lucifer did not create a single planet. Instead he talked. He talked and talked. He questioned God's plan and he questioned their place in God's plan. And slowly, across the infinite expanse of the universe the angels were creating, they listened. It is understood that all the angels heard Lucifer's words that day. Some, those future demons, choose to join him, some would not be tempted and a few maybe just asked a few too many questions for their own good. In fact, not all the angels heard Lucifer. Aziraphale had not as he had been too busy worrying about the shape of a galaxy he was creating so far from Earth that it will never be seen by anyone. It is not useful to speculate but if he had heard Lucifer, it is possible that the angel Aziraphale may have fallen too. 

As it was, the first Aziraphale heard of Lucifer was the Fall. Now coming to the end of the fourth day of his existence, Aziraphale had felt many emotions. He had been happy, and satisfied and gleeful. He had been bored and tired, even fretful and worried. But he had never, in his long, long existence, been scared. He was scared then, watching God cast out the rebellious angels. He cowered from her overwhelming, overpowering rage as those thousands of angels fell. 

"What did they do?" He whispered to an angel near him. 

"You don't know?" 

Aziraphale shook his head. 

"They questioned God's plan." 

Aziraphale felt a creeping feeling of dread. He had also been questioning God's plan, had he not? Not out loud, but still. What if she found out? The terrified, anguished cries if the fallen angels filled the air and Aziraphale resolved to keep his head down and not question anything ever again. 

After the Fall, the angels were given the task of populating the Earth with many creatures. Firstly, the creatures of the sea, from the smallest plankton to the largest whale. Then the creatures of the sky, bluebirds, and seagulls and bees. Aziraphale loved the bees very much. They just shouldn't work but they did, buzzing about, supping on the nectar from plants the angels had all worked so hard to create. With half their workforce gone, this work took a long time. The day stretched into eternity as they made endless shoals of fish, and long stretches of coral reefs and millions of flies. Aziraphale was trying very hard not to question, but really, he thought as he watched a fly land on some goose poo, flies were horrible. 

The following day they populated the land, filling jungles with monkeys and panthers and frogs and woods with deer and wolves and moles. They brought lions and giraffes and elephants roaring into existence in the plains of Africa. As the day was drawing to a close, Aziraphale was summoned. He felt that fear surge through him again. He really had tried to keep his questioning to a minimum. He was summoned to a Garden, a bit of Earth he had not seen before. In fact, none of the angels had. This garden had been crafted by God and in it she had placed her final two creations: Man and Woman. 

As he approached God, Aziraphale felt his corporeal vessel change into a form it had never taken before. He was walking on two legs, two arms swinging by his side. He could feel things in his chest: a heart, a set of lungs. They seemed to be doing something, although it did not seem to Aziraphale to be terribly useful. He blinked his two eyes as clothes draped across his body. His pearly white wings unfurled behind him, feathered like a bird's wings, soft and clean. Although he had only been in it for a few moments, Aziraphale felt this particular body was actually quite comfortable. He could get used to this. 

"Angel Aziraphale." God's voice filled the air. 

"Oh, um, yes that's me." replied Aziraphale, nervously. 

"I have a task for you angel Aziraphale." 

"Oh right, super! What, um, is it exactly?" 

Aziraphale attention was directed then at two forms that looked very much like his own current form, lying in the grass at the foot of a large tree. 

"Those, angel Aziraphale, are humans. They are my greatest creation. I have given you a human form too, as you are now tasked with their protection." 

"Oh right! Do they, um, do anything? Or do they just lie there?" 

"They are sleeping." and suddenly Aziraphale knew what sleep was, though he had never needed to sleep. God continued: 

"You will guard the Eastern Gate angel. You will be guarding against the forces of Darkness, Lucifer's army of demons. They are intent on ruining my creation. You must prevent this." 

All of a sudden, a flaming sword appeared in Aziraphale hand, who promptly screamed and dropped it. 

"That, angel Aziraphale, is your weapon. Use it wisely." 

"Yes, yes, I will, I'm sorry, yes of course" Aziraphale said, bending down hastily to pick the sword up. God had gone. Aziraphale gripped the hilt of the sword in his new hands and stared out at the desert surrounding the Garden, on the lookout for demons. 

On the seventh day, God rested and Aziraphale guarded. The problem was, standing in one place and looking out at a vast, empty expanse of desert was, well, boring. So Aziraphale turned his attention away from the desert towards the creatures placed under his care. The humans. They were fascinating. He watched them explore the garden together, tasting the fruits of the bountiful trees that surrounded them. He watched them talk to one another, not to instruct or order as angels did but to amuse one another. They told stories, they laughed. They danced. And Aziraphale took it all in and longed, more than anything, to join them. 

* * *

The day the serpent Crowley came had begun as the days had always begun since Aziraphale had arrived in Eden, with a sunrise. Days seemed a lot shorter now the job of creation had ended: the Earth turned on its axis, the sun went down and the humans curled up together and slept. And the Earth turned on its axis and the sun rose, and the humans awoke and Aziraphale watched. He had spent a pleasant morning observing the male human, Adam, plaiting plant vines together into ropes. So ingenious these humans! So clever. No animal does that! He lost track of Adam around noon, as his attention had been arrested by a particularly bountiful mango bush, the mangoes ripe to the point of bursting. Aziraphale did not strictly need to eat to keep his body going, just as he did not strictly need to breathe, but his body still worked and thus, ripe and juicy mangoes were as pleasurable to him as they were to any human. He was just miracling the juice off his fingers when storm clouds began to gather overhead. This had never happened before and for the first time in a long time, Aziraphale felt worried. 

He rushed through the woodland, pulling the flaming sword from thin air. 

"Oh dear, oh no, oh dear." He muttered to himself as he ran, his great wings unfurling behind. He found the humans right at the centre of the garden, beneath the apple tree. They looked at him, terrified. 

"Oh no! Please, don't worry, I'm good. I’m an angel. I’m here to protect you." Aziraphale tried to reassure them, folding his wings away and letting the sword fall to his side. 

A deep and terrible roll of thunder reverberated through the air. The humans looked up at the sky. 

Poor things, thought Aziraphale, they have never seen a storm before, they’ve never seen _rain_ before for heaven’s sake. They have never experienced fear before today. That is all going to change. 

God's voice rang out, more terrible and awesome than anything the humans had ever experienced. 

"You have eaten from the forbidden apple tree. You have disobeyed me, your creator, and for that you are to be banished from the garden of Eden." 

Aziraphale stood very still and waited for God's ire to turn on him. It didn't. 

"You must wander the Earth where wild beasts and harsh winters and burning summers await you. Go, now! The angel will show you the way." 

The wind around them picked up, trees creaked and bent, leaves flying. 

"Come now, this way, quickly!" Aziraphale said, lifting his flaming sword up to lead the way through the undergrowth to the wall. He removed a stone from the wall large enough for them to squeeze through: 

"This way, come on now, you can't stay here." 

The woman, Eve, was crying. Aziraphale had never seen crying before. It was pitiful and his heart sank. This didn't feel good, and weren't angles supposed to be good? He swallowed then looked at Adam. 

"Here, take this, to protect yourselves." He said, handing Adam the flaming sword. Adam's eyes widened; he had experienced more that afternoon than he could ever have imagined. First the pleasure then the abject fear and regret; and now he was being handed a flaming sword by a very apologetic looking angel. He looked out of the hole in the wall at the Earth for the first time and saw only a vast expanse of desert. He took the sword. 

Aziraphale placed the stone carefully back in the wall after watching Adam and Eve climb through and set off towards the horizon, a knawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned and was suddenly blinded by a bright light that enveloped him. God's voice filled his ears: 

“Angel Aziraphale.”

“Yes, Lord?”

“Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?”

“Sword? Right. Um uh - Big, sharp, cutty thing.” Aziraphale floundered.

“Yes.”

“Uh Oh, must have, uh must have put it down here somewhere. Um, Forget my own head next.”

Aziraphale let out a small, nervous chuckle. He was waiting to be punished for letting the humans be tempted by the apple; but no punishment came. Instead the daylight returned, and the voice of God was gone. 

“Oh dear.” He said.

As he flew up to the top of the wall, Aziraphale worried. Why had God not punished him for allowing the humans to disobey? Was that all part of the plan? If it was then why had god asked him about the sword? He thought he had been doing good by giving the sword to the humans. They needed it after all, alone and defenceless as they were. But if God hadn't known he’d given them the sword, then...? By the time he reached the top of the wall he had worked himself into quite a state of moral panic. He set himself down and looked out at the two figures slowly trudging through the sand, so absorbed he did not notice the large serpent that had slithered up the wall to join him until it had turned into a more human shape. 

The figure before him looked like a human, although nothing like the humans Aziraphale had cared for. He was tall and lean, with long, careful limbs and delicate fingers. His hair fell in gentle curls of the deepest auburn down to his shoulders, that practically glowed in the setting sun. His great wings were raised behind him, the deepest, darkest black. They shone and gleamed and Aziraphale felt a little ashamed of his own wings, which looked dull and uncared for in comparison. Aziraphale gave a little start as he looked into the demon's (for he was certain now that this was a demon) eyes: bright, burning yellow with slits for pupils, like a snake.

"Well that went down like a lead balloon." 

The demon spoke in a soft drawl. He looked over at Aziraphale who was still getting over the shock of a demon materialising next to him.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.”

Aziraphale had to agree with that, so he did:

“Yes, yes, it did, rather.”

“Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.” The demon looked over at Aziraphale again.

“Well, it must be bad –“Aziraphale looked back at the demon, questioningly.

“Crawley.” Crawley offered.

“- Crawley. Otherwise you wouldn't have tempted them into it.”

Crawley shrugged:

“Oh, they just said, "Get up there and make some trouble".”

Aziraphale pursed his lips:

“Well, obviously. You're a demon. It's what you do.”

The demon shook his head a little and said:

“Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a "Don't Touch" sign. I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?”

Aziraphale did not want to hear this. Never mind that he had been thinking the same thing. If a demon was thinking it, it must be wrong. Crawley continued:

“Makes you wonder what God's really planning.”

“Best not to speculate.” Aziraphale went back to the reason he had always been told. “It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable.”

The demon scoffed: “The Great Plan's ineffable?”

“Exactly. It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words.”

There was a lull in the conversation as Crawley looked Aziraphale up and down. Aziraphale did not particularly like this. Crawley broke the brief silence:

“Didn't you have a flaming sword? Ah, you did. It was flaming like anything. What happened to it? Lost it already, have you?”

Aziraphale, feeling very put out, pouted a little:

“- Gave it away.”

“- You what?”

“I gave it away. There are vicious animals. It's going to be cold out there. And she's expecting already.” Aziraphale was justifying his decision to himself more than Crawley. “And I said, "Here you go. Flaming sword. Don't thank me. And don't let the sun go down on you here". I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing.” He ended, fretfully. Crawley tilted his head, a curious expression on his face.

“Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing.”

For reasons he could not quite explain, least of all to himself, Aziraphale felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards the demon and said:

“Oh, oh, thank Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me.” He smiled at Crawley who was peering out at the two figures in the distance.

“I've been worrying, too.” He said. “What if I did the right thing with the whole "eat the apple" business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.”

Crawley laughed and Aziraphale, out of politeness joined in until he realised what Crawley had actually said.

“No.” he replied, horrified. “It wouldn't be funny at all.”

Thunder rang out and the first raindrops began to beat down on the angel and the demon as they stood there, looking out over the Earth and the humans. The angel, quite instinctively, lifted his wing to shelter his companion and his companion, quite uninstinctively, moved closer to him.


	2. A flood and a drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be leaving out the actual dialogue from the show from now on.

The next thousand years went by very slowly. Aziraphale had expected to be punished for letting the forces of hell to intervene in the Garden of Eden, but it was barely mentioned. He had been assigned an important job: to walk the Earth and keep an eye on the humans. Lucifer’s forces would try anything to bring humanity down. This was a moral war and he was but a soldier.

Aziraphale was generally quite happy on Earth. For a start the humans were really getting to grips with food. Spit-roasted lamb, charred from the fire and dripping in fat; small flat breads eaten fresh off the cooking stone, floury and crisp; and dates, soaked in honey that made everything just a little bit sticky. They had also kept up the story telling and Aziraphale liked nothing more than to sit round a fire and listen to some tale, born from human imagination. Aziraphale spent most of his time trying to do good. A small miracle here, a light blessing there. Occasionally another angel would come down to perform some miracle, but they never stayed long.

Unfortunately, the humans had not given up on sinning. They had if anything doubled down. Aziraphale saw vice everywhere he turned, far more than he was able to keep up with. Sex and greed, gluttony and pride; and the violence. He watched one man kill another with shock and horror and then watched it happen, again and again. Whenever he witnessed a particularly bad sin, though of course appalled and disgusted, he couldn't deny that he had a small hope that this one would be orchestrated by Crawley. He had not seen the demon, or indeed any demon, since their conversation on the wall and he had no idea if Crawley ever came up to Earth at all. Even so, he always hoped that the latest crime might have been orchestrated by him and that maybe he would come to gloat. That would be fun. Talking with humans wasn’t usually fun: “Don’t steal your brother’s goat” this, and “Have you tried not cheating on your wife?” that. Angels weren’t much better, only coming down to speak about business and good deeds. Crawley had made him laugh.

About a thousand years into the history of humanity, the level of vice and sin had reached such a peak that God decided to punish them. Aziraphale heard about this through Gabriel, who appeared in his hut at the foot of a small mountain one cloudy afternoon.

"I'm not stopping long Aziraphale, I'm just here to inform you that that Almighty has decided the humans need to be punished."

"Oh right! Um what exactly do you, I mean, is there anything I need to do?" Aziraphale trailed off, hoping the answer was no. He was not a fan of smiting.

"No. God’s taking care of this one. Big flood that's the plan. Wipe them out, start again." Aziraphale looked around himself, confused.

"What, all of them?"

"Well she's told one of them to build some sort of boat. To save the animals and whatnot. Anyway, you don't have to worry about them, just find yourself a bit of land to stay on and do try not to get discorporated."

"Oh no. Yes, of course, I won't." Aziraphale said as Gabriel disappeared.

The flood did not come for a while, and Aziraphale wandered through the valley, following vague rumours of a man named Noah, building an ark. He was standing around with a gaggle of curious humans and some sheep when someone spoke to him.

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

* * *

It was another 300 years before Aziraphale saw Crawley again. He had settled himself in the beginnings of a small town that would, some centuries later, become Bethlehem, as a kind of sage, dispensing advice and trying to encourage people to do good. When reports reached him of a man in black robes, with hair like fire, who had been travelling around neighbouring villages and towns, bringing with him alcohol and a persuasive manner, he knew he would have to take action. He sighed and mounted his mule to ride to the next village over, where, he was told, the man was asleep in a drunken stupor in a goat shed. He knocked on the door.

“Hello? Sir?”

A groan came from within that Aziraphale took to mean “come in”, so he pushed the door open. He found Crawley lying in a bed of straw and goat dung. His robes had ridden up to his waist and his legs were splayed out. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he looked away, mortified. Crawley opened his eyes and squinted at the figure that had entered the goat house.

“Angel.” he said, happily.

“Would you please- “Aziraphale stammered, staring straight ahead. “Please sort your, um-“

Crawley laughed and got unsteadily to his feet, straightening his robes.

“You can look now angel, don’t worry.”

Aziraphale took a quick glance, then, seeing that all was back to normal, smiled warmly at Crawley.

“So, what are you doing in my goat shed, angel?”

“It is not your goat shed, and I am here because I keep being told a man is going around the towns causing drunken havoc. I should have known it was you.” Aziraphale reprimanded.

“Ah, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“It is a sin.”

Crawley pouted and looked Aziraphale up and down before saying:

“What about you? I thought gluttony was a sin. You don’t exactly look underfed now, do you Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blanched, looking down at his slightly rotund figure.

“I like- I like dates, soaked in honey.” He mumbled; Crawley smiled widely.

“Of course you do. And if you like those then you are going to love -” he waved his hand, “this.” He had produced a jug of amber coloured liquid and two small ceramic cups.

“Crawley, I don’t think I should- Is that alcohol?”

“Come on angel, just one cup, for me?”

“Oh well, it would be rude to refuse. So, I suppose- One cup? Yes, I’m sure that would be-“

Crawley pressed the cup, filled to the brim, into Aziraphale’s hand. It tasted delicious.

Ten cups later and Aziraphale was laughing as he had never laughed in his life. He wasn’t sure why they had even started laughing in the first place. They were both slouched on the floor, a thrice emptied jug lying between them. Eventually, they both stopped laughing and Crawley looked over at Aziraphale.

“I tempted you.” He said with a chuckle. Aziraphale frowned and blinked, his brain processing Crawley words through the haze of the alcohol.

“So this was all- You did this for your- This was all part of Hell’s plan?”

“No.” Crawley drawled, “No, no, I just realised - thought it was funny.” He tilted his head, looking at Aziraphale in a way that made the angel feel almost uncomfortable, and pouted. But Aziraphale wasn’t listening. He had got unsteadily to his feet and was heading towards the door when he stumbled. Crawley leapt up and steadied him, a hand wrapped tightly around Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale tore himself away and looked at Crawley, using all his concentration just keeping his gaze steady. All of a sudden, he felt sick, sick of the dizzy, messy feeling in his head, sick of Crawley, sick. He concentrated very hard, willing the alcohol out of his system.

“I think you should leave Crawley. You are not wanted in this town.”

“It’s my goat shed,” slurred Crawley, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine, then I’ll go. But I want you gone by the morning.”

“Go then.” Shouted Crawley as Aziraphale turned to leave, “Go! I don’t need you to have fun, _Angel_.” He dragged the last word out, sneering.

“Yes, well I don’t need _you_ to have fun either.” said Aziraphale back, slamming the door.

Aziraphale rode slowly back to his town, wondering why, if he had expelled all the alcohol from his system, he still felt so sick. He resolved never to speak with the demon Crawley again. The next morning he awoke to find a box of honey-soaked dates outside his hut.


	3. A battleground

2115 BC.

The Akkadian Empire of Assyria was under attack from a barbarian people from the Zagros Mountains known as the Gutians. Aziraphale, who had ventured into the city of Akkad in search of a good meal and the possibility of a few souls to save, had found himself trapped. It was not entirely clear how he had even managed to get in, seeing as the city had been under siege for almost a month when he arrived. But whether it was luck or divine intervention, Aziraphale had somehow made his way into the city without seeing a single Gutian soldier.

He had found a bed in the home of a very nice family who had served up a rather meagre meal. If Aziraphale had asked why he was being served days-old flatbread and mutton gristle for dinner, he would have found out that the city’s inhabitants had been under siege for weeks and that the mountain-folk were planning on attacking the city any day now. But as it was, Aziraphale was too polite and the family far to in awe of this brilliant stranger who had sweet-talked his way into their home and so the first Aziraphale knew of the Gutians was when he was rudely awakened very early the next morning to the cry of the father shouting “They’re here, they’re at the gates”. The father and his three sons, the youngest being only 12, starting grabbing weapons and rudimentary armour, whilst the mother gathered her remaining offspring around her and piled food into cloth bags.

“I’m terribly sorry but, um, what is happening?” said Aziraphale to her as she carefully placed a soft cheese wrapped in vine leaves into the bag. Without looking up she said:

“The siege is over. They are attacking. Quickly now.” She shouted at one of her daughters, who was fiddling with her dress. She looked at Aziraphale, who was still processing the news that apparently the city he had freely wandered into the night before was under siege, with pity and said, not unkindly:

“You should hide.”

And with that she left and hurried off into the street, thronging with people also heading to the marketplace at the centre of Akkad. Aziraphale stood alone in the now empty house for a moment before making up his mind and heading out, following the men and boys carrying swords and shields, heading toward the city limits. Several of them stared in confusion at him, unarmed and unprotected as he was so he ducked into a side street a quietly miracled himself a small sword and a leather breast plate. He didn’t like holding the sword, it made him feel dirty but it was sufficient enough disguise that he could stand amongst the group of men who were to go out of the city gates and defend Akkad without arousing too much suspicion. As they stood there, waiting for a sign from one of the boys sent up the tower walls as lookouts, Aziraphale could feel the fear gripping the men around him. He had so far avoided getting himself mixed up in any kind of conflict; the battlefield was not exactly his _milieu_. He had not before been stood amongst hundreds of men, some terrified, some excited to prove themselves, some lusting for violence, all sweating like pigs. He did not enjoy it. As they waited, Aziraphale whispered a few small miracles, to protect the youngest, the most innocent of the boys around him, some as young as 10. And finally there came a cry from the wall and the gates began to slowly lift.

Aziraphale spent exactly 96 seconds on that particular battlefield. Then an incredibly hairy man wearing very few clothes and carrying a huge axe, ran at him, threatening to bring the axe straight down on Aziraphale’s head. Azirphale paused time, the axe inches from making contact. He stepped nimbly out from the Gutian’s shadow and hurried away from the city, towards a cluster of tents in the distance. He kept glancing up at the sky as he did this. He had already performed quite a few miracles that day (not to mention miracaling himself a decent supper after heading to bed the night before) and he had a feeling Gabriel would be none too happy about him pausing time for this long.

Just a little bit further, he thought, panting as he ran toward the tents. Then a figure stepped out from the largest one and Azirphale almost collapsed from the shock. He had paused time, so no one should be stepping out of anything. Then he caught a glimpse of burning red hair under a dark headscarf and let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Oh it’s you.” He panted as he finally reached the tent.

“Hullo Angel, fancy seeing you here. This your doing?” Crawley gestured to the frozen battlefield.

“I was about to be chopped in two and I really didn’t want to go through the hassle of discorporation.” Aziraphale waved his hand and time unfroze. The air was suddenly full of screams and shouts and the clanging of metal on metal.

“Oh, right…” the demon said. He gestured to the tent he’s just appeared from. “Do you want a drink?”

“This is your tent?”

“Oh, um, yes, it is. I’m the Gutian’s head strategist.”

“You’re responsible for this battle? And the siege?” Aziraphale said, horrified.

“Noooo! No! Well, maybe. I did mention one evening that the people of Akkar weren’t exactly all that and the Gutians just took that and they really ran with it. And they said they really needed my help, that I was wise, and frankly most of their ideas were mad. They were just going to get themselves all killed. So. Here I am.”

Aziraphale shook his head in disapproval but couldn’t help a smile creep across his face. 

“Maybe it’s you, maybe you just can’t help but cause trouble, Demon.”

“Maybe….” Crawley looked pensive. “This is a lot more trouble than I intended. I was aiming for a little sheep stealing, maybe some light looting, not all out battle.”

At this moment, one of the soldiers let out a very well timed and poignant scream of pain right by their tent. Crawley sighed and flung himself onto the straw bed in the corner. His headscarf had loosened and a few curls of that brilliant red hair had slipped out. Aziraphale dithered. He shouldn’t really be talking to demons, let alone comforting them. But Crawley looked so miserable and surely it would be bad not to comfort him, a little.

“Um, well, I’m sure it’s not your fault really. They’re always doing this, the humans.”

“Killing each other?”  
  


“Oh yes, all the time, I’ve practically given up trying to stop it now. And it can’t all be demonic influence, can it?”

Crawley sat up and thought about this for a moment. 

“No, you’re right, they are always doing this. And it is in so many of their heads. I’ve seen it. Thank you, Angel.”

“Don’t mention it.” Aziraphale mumbled, then realised what he had said and started. “No really, don’t ever mention this. If my lot knew I was –“ he dropped to a whisper, “talking to you, they’d … they’d…” he struggled to find the appropriate punishment that might befall him, “well they wouldn’t be happy.”

“No, quite right Angel.” Crawley drawled, arranging himself more comfortably on his bed and closing his eyes.

“Oh right, um, I’ll go then shall I?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay” came the reply from the bed.

“Oh, well… But no, no I should go now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that this story has absolutely no structure. It is really more of a series of one shots than a cohesive narrative but I will be trying to tease out Aziraphale and Crawley's feelings as time goes on :)


End file.
